


Kindred

by Kajune



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Needs A Hug, Hurt/Comfort, Lucifer's Cage, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Season/Series 08, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 09:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kajune/pseuds/Kajune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean needs someone to listen to him, someone who can understand him. He realizes there is only one person like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel didn't make it.

The portal to Purgatory closed before he could get out.

Maybe it was for the best, maybe the angel wanted to stay behind and repent.

Dean would naturally argue, but there was no hope in dragging the angel back so there was no point in saying a word.

Castiel is gone.

And so is Bobby.

Sam doesn't understand the thoughts swirling through his head day by day, and Dean is not cruel enough to force him to listen. It's his job to make Sam happy, so he'll willingly swallow down the growing pit in his stomach.

They have a home now, a bunker all to themselves.

There is no major crisis outside, just the usual monster of the week to hunt.

All seems well, and Dean tells Sam just that, but deep down, Dean feels completely alone.

Could anyone possibly understand him?

Is there anyone like him?

As he downs his third beer that night, Dean realizes that there is someone, just one, and unlike so many other candidates, this one isn't dead. And so, he arranges a plan for the following morning to seek this person out.

It's been five months, he can't keep living with this horrible emptiness.

This unyielding sense of loneliness.


	2. Chapter 2

Just after dawn, Dean sets out to the local library to do some research. He knows what he wants to do, he just needs to find out _how_ to do it. He has brought with him a few ancient and valuable books from the bunker, each one written in a language he can't understand.

He keeps his phone on in case Sam calls, and when he does nearly two hours later, Dean lies about hooking up with a girl at a bar. Sam buys it instantly. It takes Dean another three hours to find what he needs, the translation to the ritual he wants to complete and with everything set, he goes out and buys some groceries.

Sam is only mildly suspicious when he gets back, but the mere offer of being told how Dean's time out 'went' and Sam brushes him off. Dean has slept with enough girls and watched enough porn to know the various, disturbing ways one can describe a hook up.

Dean waits until the sun has set and Sam is asleep to leave again.

It takes a while for Dean to gather the ingredients and prepare the location, a small run-down shop near the middle of nowhere is chosen. The final ingredient reminds Dean just how nice it is to have the King of Hell as your enemy. It means that demons will be eager to hunt you down, and Dean does his best to lure about six or seven to his location.

The whole room is full of traps and it takes less than ten minutes to fill the place with corpses. He adjusts one, a young male, on top of a makeshift altar. With candles lit, he begins to pray.

A gush of wind fills the sealed up room and life seems to enter the young man.

Dean carefully looks up at the wide-eye expression, staring at him, unblinking, and then its eyes glow silver.

"Dean..."

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dean clutches his old jeans as he sits, almost as fixed as a rock, in front of the being he never thought he'd call upon once again. If it were him from a few years ago, there would be death threats right from Washington all the way to Florida because all he ever wanted to do back then was lock away this monster.

Today, he has chosen to summon him, in voice only, for company only he can provide.

He doesn't want there to be any repercussions, and pray to the Heavens there won't be, but in truth, he doesn't really care. He is willing to lie to Sam, make up a story for every minute spent, regardless of their promise to be honest with each other.

To never lie, not once, ever again.

"Dean Winchester."

A cold, inhuman voice echoes throughout the room. From what Dean understands, this is only the effects of communicating through a mouthpiece...at the person who had helped to lock him away....

In Hell.

Dean still doesn't fully regret it, at least, not yet.

"M-Michael."

Dean clears his throat.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

There is a hint of arrogance, like Michael had predicted his predestined vessel would come crawling back to him.

Like he had done a few times before.

It must feel nice to be right.

"I need you, man. I need you to talk to me."

There is a brief pause, then Michael speaks. The expression on the mouthpiece doesn't change, but Dean can hear that his words have earned him Michael's full attention.

"About what?"

It isn't really an invitation. Michael just likes to hear the reason behind every action, before he considers its value.

Dean hopes with all his heart that his needs are worthy.

"Me. My life. My fucked up life that no one can possible understand. Not even Sam."

Michael is quiet, so Dean adds,

"Except you."

There is a small sigh, and Dean can almost picture Michael drawing his features in as he stuffs his vessel's lungs with air and puffs it all out, his shoulders slumping slightly in noble recognition.

As the angel had done so many times before.

It isn't a bad sign.

Not entirely, at least.

"I suppose you won't free me, or us?"

"Never."

Dean makes sure to sound firm, and Michael seems to buy the extra layer of courage he forced into the words.

If talking to Michael doesn't help with his stress, then he might actually just grab the rings.

Not that he will admit it.

"Very well."

Michael doesn't sound happy, but he doesn't sound angry either, as Dean anticipated slightly. Admittedly, the mouthpiece and the echoing are making it hard to decipher emotions, especially emotions from a stoic guy like Michael.

"Tell me, Dean, what can I help you with?"

Dean begins with the little things, his daily routine whenever there is no major crisis. He has until the candles go out, or until Sam starts calling, so Dean speaks slowly, patiently, and Michael responds with the same treatment.

He never sounds angry, barely mocks Dean, and for that, Dean feels extremely grateful.

"Purgatory was fucked up, man, but I enjoyed it, I enjoyed living a simple life. Just hunt, hunt and hunt." Dean says these words with reverence in his eyes, a look he could swear Sam would shoot him for having.

"We were raised to only do what we are told, not what we want."

Michael replies, and Dean's mind chants the words _true true true_ , because **yes** , Dean feels like he never truly got to have freedom, a sense of peace, always a job here and there and someone to care for here and there.

Only a monster realm could give him what he needed. Only Purgatory felt right.

"Free will sucks, it ain't at all as its name suggests. I can't do a damn thing I truly want."

Dean can heard a soft rumbling, and to his astonishment, Michael sounds like he's laughing, though Dean would be lying if he said this was the first time he heard the archangel express anything but stoicism.

"Do you wish to talk about it again?"

Flashes of the times Dean spent yelling, barking and even smooth talking to the archangel flow through his mind. Again and again, they argued over the topic of Free Will, with Dean standing in the defense, unlike now. It reminds him that this surreal conversation was not born merely from a grand, special connection only Fate could weave, but from another form of yearning Dean had unwittingly developed during one of these debates.

Dean brushes his fingers over the tiles in front of him, as if to feel the archangel trapped in Hell, to feel the skin of a vessel and know Michael would feel every millisecond of it. It was never an affectionate touch Dean gave, for he never thought Michael deserved anything but hate and disrespect.

Even in the form of carnal liaison.

Orange wax drips from their high tips as the fire melting them reflects in Dean's eyes, eyes that do not see anything but moments from the past, that are both regretful yet impossible to think of as only bad. Dean enjoyed their sessions, filled with curses and promises of failure should one ignore the other's demands.

It all ended in Michael's defeat, clearly, and one would be wise not to remind him of that, but even as such victory had been Dean's greatest desire during the Apocalypse, a longing to dominate and be dominated by Michael also sits among the needs and desires in his heart.

The urge didn't linger the closer to the end they got, decreasing instead the more hope the Winchesters developed in stopping the end of the world. Only recently, has Dean begun to wonder what Michael feels about their sinful nights, both dream walks and not, and even now he's too scared, even with curiosity rising in the back of his mind, Dean feels he has enough shame in him not to ask, to avoid the topic altogether and focus on his need for companionship, in a more formal sense.

The past is the past, he likes to tell himself.

"No."

There is another distant rumble, but it sounds almost sinister.

"Don't lie to me Dean, you and I are alike, so I can tell when you are being dishonest."

The words propel Dean's next question out without hesitation.

"Then does that mean you miss our sex?"

Dean likes to think the brief pause was due to Michael faltering a bit. He had acted like a virgin when they first did it, yet he could not be sure under all that unrestrained hate being poured into every touch and kiss and bite.

"I miss freedom." Michael supplies. "I miss feeling the sun on my being, I miss flapping my wings against the cool breeze of the North Pole, and I miss seeing my home in Heaven, with my own eyes."

Dean feels a pang of guilt well up inside him. The confession is undeniably sincere. Dean doesn't need his similarities with Michael to be sure. He sounds half-sad and half-broken, like all he had been thinking about since he was trapped were these few uncomplicated things.

He knows he shouldn't feel too sorry for Michael. Three of his friends and basically family members had fought tooth and nail to remove Michael from this world, and while the archangel agreed to talk, he never agreed to behave.

It isn't too much to assume Michael spoke these words on purpose, to rile Dean up.

Sadly, it didn't work.

Or did it?

Dean can't tell, and as the flames near the end of their lives, Dean decides to talk about something else, and he magically zooms in on the topic of food and beverages, and Michael magically switches with him, laughing a bit as he listens to Dean's weird opinions.

At least the two of them feel better than before.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Sam doesn't notice it at first, but gradually, Dean begins spending more time outside, especially during the late hours, and even with the talks about romantic endeavors, Sam doesn't find this very characteristic of Dean, unless they're living in a period of grief and pain. Sam doesn't think there is a big enough crisis going on for Dean to need the near-constant attention of some hooker.

His instincts tell him to question Dean's behavior, but Dean always seems to have an alibi. Maybe not always sex, a few times easy cases, and others a fun night out dancing. Dean usually reappears with evidence, a hickey here and there, the smears of blood and a few extra cash, and the stench of alcohol.

It should be enough to keep Sam calm, but it doesn't, not after a week. Dean behaves as normal, but the single change that involves late night trips that last from an hour to four and six at most make Sam's brain tingle with suspicion.

After all they've been through, Sam doesn't want to believe there's still trouble.

Or even secrets.

Dean's behavior indicates very heavily of a secret being kept, yet Sam has no way of proving it. He could try stalking Dean, but that would mean Sam no longer trusts him, and Sam doesn't want to go back to the days of suspecting one's own brother as the bad guy.

The past should remain in the past, shouldn't it?

Sam wants to agree, add that maybe Dean has found that "special someone" who isn't Lisa Braeden. If this was the case, then Sam is certain Dean would reveal the truth someday soon. Sam's cynical mind however, likes to imply that this cannot be the case.

 _Why?_ , Sam tries to counter, but receives no answer.

All he gets is the growing sense of worry that Dean is lying to him all over again despite their promise.

After the eighth day, Sam finds himself unable to pretend that everything is alright. Dean may look happier, but Sam can't stop himself from worrying. He tells himself that he simply cares for his brother, but even as he says it to himself, it sounds like another lie.

So, he waits until sunset, to execute his plan.

 


End file.
